


What she likes

by drdblack27



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Confessions, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smut, getting caught in the act (sort of), greens - Freeform, not as explicit so maybe mature's the best, romantic descriptions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drdblack27/pseuds/drdblack27
Summary: “What else you don’t like?” he asks, and she fights a shiver. Blossom would make her life a living hell if she saw her like this because of Butch.She shrugs. “Dunno. I don’t enumerate the things I don’t like.”
Relationships: Butch & Buttercup Utonium, Butch/Buttercup Utonium
Comments: 2
Kudos: 67





	What she likes

**Author's Note:**

> so, there's a little spoiler of the godfather (first movie) during the fic, so... dunno, I felt like warning, maybe there's someone who didn't see it yet.
> 
> anyway, hope you like it! kudos and comments are always appreaciated!

Buttercup is not the kind of girl who expresses her positive feelings out loud. She surely will tell you when she’s mad, or annoyed, or that she wants to rip your face off and punch you in the balls, but she’ll never tell you she likes talking or hanging out with you.

She doesn’t even say that to her sisters. Maximum is a “ _thanks_ ” or “ _me too_ ”, but the L word, coming from her mouth? Never.

But she appreciates things, of course. 

Buttercup likes when Bubbles combs her hair, or offers to go with her get some new clothes because she hates shopping, or when Blossom always pays attention to what she says, and shows up at her games, even though she hates sports. She likes when Professor makes them breakfast. She doesn’t care that he’s a complete disaster on kitchen – the way he makes things ( _with love_ , Bubbles would say) always makes her happy.

She likes listening to music, loud rock and roll coming out of her earphones, the butterflies on her stomach when a good guitar solo comes, the heaviness of the drums, the constant beat of the bass. Buttercup likes when Bubbles and Blossom argue with her because of the volume – _how can you listen to this ruckus!_ , her older sister would scream – and trying to imagine how someone can produce such beauty just by touching strings or beating sticks in a surface.

She likes flying around Townsville during the late hours of night, feeling the wind’s sound on her ears, the cold contrasting with the heat of her skin. Likes to see the moon, thinking about how she could simply touch it and return home like it never happened, and to watch the city lights, some cars, some people. She almost forgets the weight on her shoulders that are her superpowers.

She likes fighting, and practicing some sport or even the physical training at home, the feeling of sweat covering her entire body, her hand trembling and her shoulder length black hair dripping, the soreness on her muscles and sometimes she even wishes that the Chemical X let her feel more of that because _damn_ , it’s the biggest proof that she’s alive and a little vulnerable – the challenge of maybe finding someone who dares to defeat her is what keeps her moving.

Buttercup likes cooking just as much as fighting, and is always doing all types of recipes. She moves on the kitchen like it’s magic, something natural, the way she knows how to make things work, how this and that make a good food. She’s an expert in desserts, and the one she’s better doing is brownies and pies. Brownies are Butch’s favorite.

Yeah. She takes that in consideration a lot.

Talking about Butch, Buttercup likes seeing him smoke, the way he blows patterns, and the way his eyes get redder and his smile looser, the way his hair, almost as dark as hers, is always in the same style (shaved on the sides, slightly curly and messy on top), but she prefers when he spends a couple months without cutting it. She likes spending time with him at school, and even after it, hanging out on the boys’ apartment, playing videogames, watching movies and listening to music, sometimes without a word. Talking with him is nice, but silence is good, too. It’s never uncomfortable.

Buttercup secretly likes to lay against him when they’re watching movies on his sofa, her back on his chest, feeling his breath. In that position, her head always gets under his chin, and she wonders when the hell did he got so freaking tall, because her frame’s now a little small next to his and she’s starting to doubt he was really shorter than her on middle school, and at the same time she can listen to his heartbeats on his carotid artery.

Butch sometimes raises a hand to rest over her stomach, on her hips or her legs. He taps his long fingers all the time when he does that, and she tries to avoid a shiver or getting hot under his skin.

It’s weird. Weird, because they used to fight all the time since Elementary school; now, they’re Seniors, and they still fight, but not as much anymore. At one time, they’re sparring, throwing punches and breaking bones, cursing and drawing blood of each other, but next moment they’re laying down on his couch, watching some horror movie, or listening to music, or playing FIFA like nothing happened.

It’s weird because she used to hate him with all her heart, and now she can’t spend a day without talking to him on the phone, on school, by texts, by notes during classes. 

Buttercup secretly likes when Bubbles “forces” everybody into triple dates, even with Brick and Blossom saying they would never be a couple and with Butch saying he's only accepting because Brick will pay for his food. She likes watching Boomer and her sister interact, because she never seen the blondie so happy, and she’s even starting to get along with Brick because he watches NFL and soccer. They talk a lot about sports, and Butch always tries to change the subject to the NBA, because it’s the only league he watches.

She liked a time when she let Blossom paint her nails (black, of course) and even bought her a mascara. She went to school and almost no one noticed, but Butch grabbed her hand and examined it closely. Then, he looked into her eyes, making her almost blush, and grinned.

“ _Makeup? Nails? What are you, sick?_ ” he teased.

“ _No, I just… felt like doing it._ ” She shrugged, regretting it and feeling a little stupid. “ _You noticed?”_

“ _Of course I noticed!_ ” Butch rolled his eyes, looking at her nails again. She didn’t understand what he meant by that. His hand was bigger than hers, and surprisingly soft. “ _It’s… nice. Looks nice on you, even with you being a dyke._ ”

Buttercup laughed and told him to fuck off, but he smiled in a way that made her very distracted during classes the rest of the day. She always paints her nails now.

She likes taking his clothes and using it, even with Bubbles mocking her about it. His clothes smell like him – masculine deodorant, an earthy fragrance, maybe his cologne, and… Butch. He simply has a smell of his own.

She likes fighting with him, too. She likes punching him in that pretty face of his, breaking his teeth and making him curse in pain, shoving that smug grin out of his mouth. She likes to rip his clothes, smack his head on the asphalt, listen to his bones breaking, watch his skin burn, all the blood that comes out – he always bleeds so much; it impresses her. She likes the butterflies on her stomach when he raises from the ground, wiping blood from his swollen mouth and asking _that’s all you’ve got?_ , panting and spitting a teeth on the floor. 

The way he changes his expression to a much darker one, as claiming for violence, how rage seems to be his fuel, how wildly he throws punches and his voice… It kinda bothers her, how he can be a completely different person during a battle and on everyday life. Normal Butch is a funny guy, grinning and teasing all the time, who gets bored every five minutes and says a lot of stupid things to make people laugh.

The fighter Butch even scares her from time to time – a thing she would never admit. During a specific fight he attacked her so violently, throwing her across Townsville and catching her before she hit the ground just to punch her so hard he broke her jaw, that during a fraction of a second Buttercup felt fear. His large hands closed on her neck, making her gasp for air, and he smiled in a way that the image burnt on her retinas – _fucking psycho_ \- and then kicked him in the balls, using her heat vision, burning his face, and he flew away. Her rage consumed her body, desperate for a vengeance, and she did him pretty bad, too.

But the day after, Butch showed up on her volley ball practice, asking if she wanted to grab some pizza and watch the Matrix trilogy with him, and she accepted. He was using a New Orleans Saints t-shirt, and she remembered he went quiet during a conversation she had about the NFL with Brick, the weekend before, and how she said she liked the team. She thought he was concentrated on the videogame, but that was the proof he wasn’t.

But the fact Buttercup likes the most about Butch is the he doesn’t judge her, telling her she should be more like a Puff when they’re sneaking out the classes, fighting or flying around town at night, hanging with the guys from school and at his apartment, how her tastes mirrors his so much. He doesn’t tell her to “act like a girl”, like Blossom – he even calls her “dude” from time to time, and mocks her about her boyish looks.

But at the same time she knows Butch sees her as a girl, like the time he praised her hair when she curled it, or the way he teases her, saying that her ass is big, or that her tits look nice when she wears a tight shirt. She punches him and changes the subject, but she secretly likes to know he finds her hot.

Buttercup used to observe how Bubbles and Boomer interacted (a little too sweet for her taste) and how Blossom and Brick treated each other (her sister was strangely shy around him, and he was three times more provocative and sarcastic). They weren’t her style, but she learned a couple things.

For example, with her older sister, she learned how to show interest in subtle ways. When the Red Ruff is around, Blossom plays with her hair and smiles at everything he says, even with Buttercup knowing that if she said the same things, her sister would punch her. She gets closer to him when they’re sitting or walking, touching his arm with hers, or his shoes with hers, fingers brushing lightly, and always bites her lip when he whispers at her ear, blushing and giggling.

With her younger sister, she learned to understood her feelings and making someone feel appreciated. Bubbles was always the one to show affection on public, kissing, hugging, touching Boomer. The blondie likes to sit on his lap, to caress his hair, to say he’s handsome and tease him at a point he gets redder than Brick’s hair. She’s always making sure he feels loved and recognized, and Buttercup suspects it has to do with the fact he’s always seen as the weaker between his brothers.

Based on that, she got... softer with Butch. 

It started like an experiment – a poke on his arm, fingers tracing random patterns on the back of his hand, a kick on his shin under the table playfully. Then, when he did nothing about it, she started tangling her arm with his, rest a leg over his thigh when sitting, get on her tiptoes to talk to him when they were alone or with their siblings, playing with his fingers when he rested a hand on her, watching movies.

One afternoon, they were watching The Godfather for the tenth time, and Buttercup blushed when Michael Corleone took off Apollonia’s clothes after the marriage. It bothered her like never before, and she didn’t understand why – her cheeks got warmer, and the butterflies she only felt during fights appeared. She blamed the temperature – summer was coming – but at the same time she became very aware of Butch, her head resting on his collarbone, his right arm around her waist, his fingers tapping her thigh, sometimes scratching it very lightly. She was wearing running shorts and he was with basketball shorts, and the amount of bare-skin-touching scared her.

She felt him shifting under her a little, and when she looked at him by the corner of her eye, his own cheeks were flushed. The sight made her hotter and uncomfortable.

He suddenly stopped tapping his fingers when Apollonia died, and slowly began to took his hand away, when she panicked. Without thinking, she just reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers, placing them on her stomach. Buttercup listened his heart race with her gest, and she really liked to know she could produce this effect on him.

By the time Michael Corleone visited Fredo on Las Vegas, Butch nuzzled her hair with his nose and moved again, tangling their legs. Buttercup trembled almost every time she felt his hot breath on her scalp, how he moved his face gently, like caressing her head. They remained that way until Boomer and Bubbles came home, when they broke apart, both shy and flushed. Butch didn’t say anything, neither Buttercup, but since that day he started to touch her more, too.

Arms around her waist, his chin resting over her head, or an arm over her shoulders, tangling fingers when distracted, caressing her leg when it was over his thigh, putting a lock of hair behind her ear, getting so closer to her when they talked that she could see all the beauty marks and moles on his face, her image reflected on his dark green eyes, a contrast to her bright green ones.

He started on private, but soon enough he was doing it in front of their friends on school, and surprisingly, for both of them and for the first time in her life, she liked being touched constantly.

But right now, sitting at Butch’s carpet on his bedroom, observing him while he smokes another joint, shirtless, one shoulder against the wall and talking about some anime he was watching, Buttercup doesn’t like the strange feeling on her lower belly and how sweaty her hands are.

She also doesn't like how his hair is longer than ever, the parts that should be shaved now have small curls and the top of his hair is full, falling over his dark green eyes, making him more attractive than ever. She doesn’t like the way her own eyes always look down at his abdomen, defined, his V line disappearing under his sleep pants, how wide his shoulders are and how strong his arms are.

His lips are a little swollen from their last fight; she remembers punching him hard enough to break some teeth, and the way they laughed, looking after them to put it back before the wounds closed. His scleras are red due the weed, lids heavy and long fingers holding the joint, now almost over.

Buttercup hugs herself slightly. She is using running shorts again and an old t-shirt, now short enough to show a tiny bit of her belly button. She’s glad Bubbles and Boomer are at the mall and Brick and Blossom went to the movies; her sisters definitely would tease her about being like that at the boys’ house.

Alone with Butch, she feels she can be herself, even exposing a little more skin than she usually did.

She notices how sharp his features are: his nose is long, like a Greek god, and his dark full eyebrows give him the most serious look, even though he’s the funnier person she knows.

And when he laughs at something he just said, those teeth – the same she likes to punch and destroy, are sharp, especially his canine, giving him a visual that makes her press her thighs together.

She knows she can beat Butch anytime, but looking at him right now, Buttercup accepts her defeat.

“What about you?” he asks, tossing the joint on the ashtray and sitting on the floor in front of her, long legs stretched and his shins touching her knees, his back on the wall.

Buttercup blinks. She didn’t hear a word he said, too busy paying attention to _other_ things.

“Sounds nice to me.” She replies, and he frowns.

“What do you mean by that? I said I started reading Attack on Titan and asked how many chapters do you have left, idiot.” He raises one eyebrow.

 _Shit_.

“Oh. My bad.” She refuses to blush, but her eyes seem attracted at his bare torso. “Still have five chapters left.”

"I bet I can catch up with you in a weekend.” Butch smirks, touching his shin on her knee playfully, and Buttercup closes her hands in fists, trying to relax.

“I bet you can’t. I doubt you can read faster than me.”

“I have many secret talents, y’know.” He crosses his arms, making that defiant look that is almost his trade mark, and Buttercup rolls her eyes, avoiding him. “Don’t roll your eyes to me, dyke.”

“Shut up!” she tries to kick him, but he quickly avoids her, catching her feet instead. “Hey!”

“Faster next time.” He teases her, and when she tries to kick him with her other foot, he grabs it too. “Ha! Now I’m on control.”

She doesn’t think about his words as she tries to get out of his grip, but he starts to tickle her soles, and she’s really done.

Besides being the toughest fighter of all, Buttercup’s still a human being, and she is very _sensible_ in some areas. The disadvantage of getting touchier with Butch was that he discovered almost all spots where he could make her produce a laugh she would absolutely never _ever_ produce on normal circumstances.

“You weren't listening to anything I said, were you?” he laughs too, tickling her, and Buttercup lays down on the carpet, a high and out of breath laugh coming from her chest, tears starting to form on the corners of her eyes. “I was talking and you didn’t give a fuck, you bitch!”

“Ahaha-NO, I-ahahaHAHA-BUTCH!” she yelps when he knees lock her on the floor, his hands going to her waist, making her voice thinner and funnier. “FUCK, STOP! I’M GOING TO-HAHAHAH-KILL YOU!”

“No, you won’t!” Butch smirks, his digitals going under her tshirt and squeezing her belly skin, going up to her ribs.

She gets so surprised at that that her knee goes up, involuntarily, directly at his crotch.

Butch feels the pain as if a lightning bolt has hit him, making him swear out loud and fall into the ground in fetal position, his face starting to get redder and warmer.

Buttercup immediately knees at his side, hands on his shoulder, terribly embarrassed, her insides twitching due the tickles and the excitement.

“Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ she’s still laughing, face as red as his, wet eyes and tears coming down her cheeks. “Y’know what? Fuck it, you deserved it.”

“What?” he groans, voice strangled with pain. “Shit, you just made me infertile!”

"C’mon, you did what I told you _not_ to do a million times!” she pushes him, and lays down on the carpet too, watching as his chest goes up and down and his hands are on his groin. “You mess with the bull, you get the horns, dude.”

Butch stays there, paining, but snorts a laugh anyway. “You bitch.”

“You know you like it.” She says without second thought, and regrets it at the same second. He looks up to her, surprise in his expression.

Buttercup refuses to blush. She _can’t_ blush, it’s against her principles.

“Actually, I do.” Butch says, propping in one elbow and staring at her.

She panics. She doesn’t expect him to get into her joke, and she could swear he’s dead serious on that. Her lower belly feels weird and he’s too handsome at that position.

She doesn’t like being this confused because of him.

Buttercup quickly rises before Butch says anymore things, and looks at his bedroom door. “I’m going to the bathroom. Be right back.”

“ _Mi casa, su casa_.” Butch smirks, laying back on the floor and sighing, still on pain.

She closes the bathroom door behind her and stares at her reflection on the mirror. Her short black locks, now a little longer, a little past her shoulders, are messy, and even her fringe is longer too – she’s able to put it to the side, like Bubbles does.

Cursing mentally, she notices she’s flushed, and her shorts are up a bit more than they should, almost those “booty shorts” she always sees on the stores. She wonders if Butch noticed it, and the answer is probably a yes, since he’s always paying attention to girls’ bodies. She lowers it down a bit.

Buttercup washes her hands, a little nervous, and wonders why the hell did it have to be Butch the one to leave her like that, embarrassed and with a weird feeling all over her body. She rises her tshirt a bit and there it is, red marks of where his fingers were minutes ago on her ribs.

She’s glad she decided to use a bra today.

Sighing, she opens the door and returns to the bedroom. Butch is still on the floor, but his back is against his bed, doing something on his phone. He raises his eyes to her when she sits on the bed, looking down.

“Hey, look at this.” He shows her his phone on a photo. Is a meme about a movie they saw earlier that week. She smiles, nodding, and he snorts.

Buttercup can’t avoid looking at his shoulders, wondering when he got so fitter, and bits her lower lip, fighting the want to touch him. She knows he won’t move away and probably would touch her too, but she’s still a little overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands under her shirt.

But Butch knows her, and she knows it, too. He looks at her, locking his screen, and puts an arm over his bed. “Are you mad at me?”

Buttercup shakes her head negatively. “Why would I?”

“’Cause, I tickled you.” He answers, rolling his dark green eyes, some curls covering them. “And, I know you don’t like when I do that.”

Buttercup smiles. The weird feeling on her belly again.

“I don’t, but whatever.” She says, and Butch raises an eyebrow, his lips starting to form a smile.

He gets closer, still on the floor, and she’s still on the bed. She can feel the heat of his bare torso next to her leg, hand just centimeters of her thigh.

“What else you don’t like?” he asks, and she fights a shiver. Blossom would make her life a living hell if she saw her like this because of Butch.

She shrugs. “Dunno. I don’t enumerate the things I don’t like.”

He moves his hand, as if his index and middle fingers were walking, and crawls over her thigh, making Buttercup laugh. The butterflies on her stomach are similar to the ones she feels when they fight, and she likes it.

Maybe she isn’t confident enough to touch him, but she knows Butch’s confident enough for both of them.

“Do you like when I do this?” he asks, his walking fingers dancing on her skin, and she looks at him, smiling. “And this?” he gets even closer, now effectively touching her leg with his body, and puts his chin over her knee.

Buttercups fights the subtle shyness. She’s the strongest of the Powerpuff Girls, for freaking sake. She never got intimidated by any monster or villain, why should she be by a boy?

But she won’t tell him.

So, she continues smiling. He tilts his head a little, smiling, and she thinks he resembles a lost puppy on that position.

The walking hand now goes slowly to behind her thigh. Butch’s trembling a little, and Buttercup wonders what he’s planning in do. He stops his hand over her butt, and this time she really blushes, her principles quickly thrown away, but doesn’t stop him.

“Do you like this?” he’s whispering, and she doesn’t know why, but the sound of his voice’s making her nervous.

Buttercup bites her lip a little, a minimum gesture, and blinks. Butch smiles gradually.

He seems satisfied. She likes the smug look on his face, is the most Butch-expression he has.

He’s gazing at her with an intensity she never saw before. She knows a lot of looks he has: the hatred, the bored, the happy, the teasing. But this one – it makes her feel weak, like she’s under his control.

“Why you’re looking at me like that?” Buttercup asks, absolutely sure her cheeks must be red - she can feel the hotness on them.

“I’m trying to decipher you.” He responds, and his other hand goes to her other thigh, doing nothing. “You’re weird.”

“I’m weird?” she asks, leaning back on her straight arms, and the movement makes her tshirt rise a little. His eyes quickly go to the tiny of her belly exposed back to her eyes.

He nods, chin still on her leg, and she chuckles. “You’ve changed.”

Buttercup knows he’s going to confront her about her sudden change of behavior. She was expecting him to do it, some time.

Seeing she wasn’t going to say nothing, he continues, carefully choosing his words. “Out of nowhere, you started… touching me. You never were a touch-person, y’know?” She bites her lip. “And them… you’re letting me do this. Hm. Get really close to you.”

“Don’t you like it?” she frowns, fearing that, in fact, he isn’t the touchier one.

He swallows, and seems to think about what the right answer would be. “That’s a difficult question.”

The hand on her butt rises a bit, getting on her lower back, and start caressing it. Buttercup feels her skin hot under his touch, and tries to press her thighs together discretely.

“Why?”

“Depending on the answer, you can punch me.” He says as if it was obvious. “And, I don’t wanna fuck this up.” He widens his eyes for a second when saying _this_.

Oh. Buttercup laughs, and he frowns at her reaction. “There’s only a right answer.”

Butch considers this for a moment. She hopes he’s not as dumb as she jokes he is.

“I really like it.” He confesses, nuzzling her thigh, still looking at her.

Buttercup nods. “That’s the right answer.”

She now thinks maybe he’s as insecure as she is. They remain in silence for a couple moments, and he kneels, putting the hand on her thigh on her lower back too. They’re at the same height now. His hands are really shaking and a little sweaty, she can feel.

“I started touching you because I wanted to.” Buttercup says, not knowing where that self-confidence came from. “And if I let you touch me in public, is because I trust and feel comfortable enough around you.”

“Really?” he asks, smiling, and she nods, biting her lip again. “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

“You do now.”

Butch caresses her skin under her tshirt. She opens her knees and then he’s between them. She knows the tension between them is so perceptible even he’s feeling it.

“What else can I do?” he whispers again. _This question is a difficult one_ , she thinks, and smiles.

“What else do you want to do?” she asks, feeling the familiar hotness on her chest she feels when they fight.

Butch tilts his head to her, as if he’s doubting she’s really saying those words.

“Are you feeling fine?” he smirks, confused, and she rolls her eyes.

“Fine. Idiot.” Buttercup laughs, feeling his hands going up and down on her back.

“Ok, you’re fine. Already calling me names.” He mocks her, and Buttercup puts a hand over his forearm, hesitantly. Butch looks down to her hand. “Hey, Buttercup…”

“Mnh?” she answers, looking at where her hand was. She’s certain that if she looks at him she’ll blush again.

“Are you… dunno, teasing me?” his tone is a little hurt, and she freezes. “’Cause if you are, then, I don’t like this game.”

“Why?” Buttercup can’t avoid asking, raising her head. Now, it’s Butch who looks down, and when she realizes he’s _blushing_ , something manifests within her, possessive and arousing.

Never in her entire life she imagined Butch would blush because of something.

He doesn’t respond. His chest is raising a little bit faster with his fastened breath, and she can see his heart beating fast on his neck artery. Buttercup tries to think in something to say, because she doesn’t want his hands to leave her, or his body to get away from its place between her thighs.

“What else do you want to do?” she repeats the question, finally getting him to look at her. “I’m not playing. I don’t play.”

She’s glad her voice was firm, and his hands stop right under her bra.

“Buttercup.” He simply says her name, and she nods, bright green eyes locked on dark green ones.

She’s daring him to move, and she knows Butch Jojo never backs up a dare.

He gets closer to her, pulling her in his direction too, and Buttercup lets him. Their bodies are centimeters apart, and she puts both hands on his biceps, finally feeling them for real, not like she would hold during a battle.

“Are you sure?” he whispers, his eyes going from hers to her neck. She squeezes his waist with her thighs.

“Are you afraid?” she asks, and notices she’s not answering him, only throwing questions.

Butch lowers his head, and she can feel his breath on her throat skin, hot. He smells so nice, Buttercup thinks. “I’m terrified.” He confesses.

“Sissy.”

“Shut up.” He whispers, trying to be funny, but swallows dry, and Buttercup rises her eyebrows.

“Make me.” She whispers back, and he looks at her, again, so intense, she freezes.

He got her.

When Butch’s lips touch the base of her neck, Buttercup can’t contain the sigh that escapes her mouth, and closes her eyes, feeling she could explode. Butch kisses the spot delicately, and then a little more intensely, mouth open.

She thinks about the girls he kissed in the past, and a strange feeling, jealousy, that she never felt before, creeps under her skin. She doesn’t want him to do this with anyone besides her, not now or never.

His lips move up to her jaw line, and he kisses it, licking too, and Buttercup’s glad she’s sitting, or else her legs would’ve stopped standing. The bastard knows what he’s doing, and she feels a little intimidated, having absolutely no experience beyond the kisses she shared with Mitch in the past.

Buttercup sighs again when he bites lightly her chin, and he stops, looking at her. She knows she must be a mess, completely hot and flushed, heart beating faster than if she had run a marathon.

“You like it?” he asks, and Buttercup open her eyes, looking at him. She can count the moles and freckles on his face, and she’s happy he’s blushing, too. The redness spreads to his neck and chest, and she thinks he’s _adorable_ , the most beautiful thing she ever seen.

She’s out of breath, and Butch smiles openly at this. “Don’t stop.” She demands, and he’s very happy to obey.

He kisses her neck and sucks the skin of it, and she’s damn sure there’ll be hickies on the next hour, and secretly wishes the Chemical X don’t heal them so fast, so she can admire his work.

He nuzzles his nose on her collar bone, and Buttercup can’t avoid throwing her head up, laying a little but still sitting, and Butch looks up, as asking for permission. It’s sweet, she thinks, and she squeezes his arms, still facing the ceiling. His hands on her lower back raise and he finds the bra closure, opening it with delicacy – which mesmerizes Buttercup. Who knew he could be like this?

She takes it without taking her shirt off, and when her gray bra lays on the ground, Butch looks at it, his fingers ghosting on her back.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m terrified.” He murmurs, and she can’t avoid a laugh, lowering her head down.

“Am I this threatening?” Buttercup asks, and Butch raises his dark green eyes to hers.

“Fuck, you almost crushed my skull into concrete last week.” He laughs too, as if she was asking some absurd. “I’m not saying twice, but sometimes you scare me.”

She remembers how he used to look during fights, and it’s so difficult to believe that the he can manage looking exactly like a psycho, when he’s eyeing her with such tenderness and treating her so carefully. “Don’t ruin the moment, idiot.”

Butch grins, and his hands are back to her ribs, just like moments ago, but this time, she wants him to touch her. He looks at her tshirt, raising as his hands go up, until her entire belly can be seem and his hands are under her boobs.

Buttercup holds her breathe, and Butch swallows dry again. “Can I see them?”

She nods, and takes her tshirt off before start thinking too much. It joins her bra on the floor, and the expression Butch has on his face is priceless: dark green eyes wide, mouth a little opened, red on the cheeks and chest. He sits down, hands on her knees, still between her legs, and stares at her nude chest.

Buttercup feels annoyed at this, rolling her eyes. A little shy. “What?”

He looks back at her and nods awkwardly. “I’ve never… imagined.”

“Imagined what?” she fights the urge to cross her arms and hide herself.

“They’re…” he raises the right hand, and retreats. A sigh escapes from his mouth, and he moisten it. “Beautiful.”

Buttercup’s breath is caught on her lungs.

Never, and her entire life, she would imagine Butch saying something is _beautiful_. She’s so overwhelmed by this she wants to cry.

“You can touch them, too.” She whispers, a million sensations, but the strongest one is between her thighs. His both hands are on her boobs before she finishes the sentence, like he’s afraid she changes her mind and wants to enjoy it before the magic fades.

His hands are big and calloused, but nice and warm, and her boobs fit his palms easily. She sighs, and she caress the back of his thigh with a foot, making him smirk between the nervousness.

“Good?”

“Kiss my neck again.” Buttercup whispers, blushing, and he does that, laughing. He squeezes her boobs slightly, while kissing her throat, and she moans on his ears, making him get as close as possible to her.

She begins to scratch his shoulders with her nails, and Butch makes a little sound from the back of his throat that makes her squeeze him with her thighs. He passes his fingers on her perked nipples and Buttercup involuntarily kisses his cheek.

She imeddiately freezes, and Butch stops too, looking at her.

“Are you fine?” he asks for the second time.

_Better than fine. Never been this fine in my entire life._

“I got carried on. Sorry.” She whispers, her voice coming a little strangled.

Butch repeats what he did on her nipples, pinching it slightly, and Buttercup inhales, eyes watering – she doesn’t know if it is from the emotion or from shame.

“How do you feel when I do this?” Butch has that intense gaze on his face, studying her expression.

She wants to say so many things she never said before. Wants to tell him how much she longed for him, for this intimacy, how lonely she feels when her sisters talk between them about the things they do with their boyfriends, and how much she expected for him to do this.

But she remains silent, afraid of his response.

“Because I feel _awesome_. It’s better than fighting you, or anything I’ve ever felt.” He confesses, and Buttercup opens her mouth a little, surprised. “I was wondering if you’d ever let me… get this far.”

“I…” her voice is so low he’s only listening due the superhearing. “You… like me?”

Butch laughs, exasperated. He's a little rougher on her boobs, and she moans higher this time, making him shake his head. “Shit, you’re still doubting?”

She’s in shock. She can’t believe those words are coming from his mouth.

“And I was starting to freak out. Y’know, ‘cause I didn’t know if you were messing around or really…” he doesn’t finish the sentence. Buttercup knows why. He pinches her left nipple while caressing her right boob, and she kisses his cheek again, resting her forehead against his.

The smile he gives her makes her insides melt.

She never said it before. She never told Mitch, when they dated in Freshman year. It was implicit, and she never felt like telling him – was obvious, wasn’t it?

But Mitch never made her feel the way Butch does. With Butch, there’s hotness, shivers, goosebumps, unsureness, moments, unspoken words, stolen glances, teasing.

And she knows Butch needs it. He's her counterpart – made from and _to_ her. He told her he felt the same things she did with her sisters with his brothers, a night she stormed on his room after she ran away due a fight with Blossom.

So, for the first time in her life, Buttercup feels like saying it.

“I never messed around.” She confesses, and Butch’s chest begins to raise faster with his anxious breath. “I…”

Hesitation.

“You…” Butch smiles. She smiles back.

“I… I've wanted to do this for a long time.” She whispers, and Butch so taken aback by this he’s back to her neck, open mouthed kisses and bites. Buttercup laughs, holding his shoulders. “Butch!”

“Hmm?” he asks, raising his head.

“I didn’t finish, dumb.” She rolls her eyes, feeling her cheeks on fire. He waits, still smiling. “Ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me.” She repeats, emphasizing something, and he frowns for a moment, before nodding.

“Do you like me?”

“Don’t dare doubting me.” He looks at her with disbelief. “I really like you.” The words slip from her tongue, a little louder than she meant, and it seems like a ton came off her shoulders, the heaviest weight she ever held. “I was just afraid of rejection.”

Butch stops touching her chest, hands raising to the sides of her face, again, so tender, so delicate, she feels like crying again. His dark green eyes are scanning every centimeter of her face, and she puts a hand over his, leaning into his touch.

_I like you more than anything._

He stops at her mouth. “Would you like it if I kissed you?”

 _Yes_ , she wants to answer. _Please, please._

Buttercup bites her lip, looking at his, nodding vehemently. He laughs, and one of his hand is back to her thigh, squeezing it, and Butch kisses her.

It’s a mixture of a cold and hot sensation all over her body. It’s powerful and stronger than the feeling she has when flying over the town, destroying some creature or making the last point on a game. It’s better than being praised by one of her sisters or the Professor, better than seeing her teams winning a championship, better than eating a good food or the butterflies in her stomach when she listens to a guitar solo.

Butch deepens the kiss, and when her tongue touches his, she can’t avoid but moan quietly. He groans back, a hand firmly pressed on her back, and the other on her butt, and she entwines her arms around his neck.

Buttercup knows how much he craved for this. She knows he feels the same about her, and behind that bad boy appearance, he's needy and even a little bit… romantic. She knows him that well.

She bites his bottom lip and likes how suddenly he changes his behavior from shy and hesitant to voracious, as if he had just realized what he was doing and didn't want to waste an instant. Like she said, she knows she’s lost, defeated by him in this battle.

She lets him lay her down on the mattress, leaning over her body, and crosses her legs on his lower back, not wanting to get far from his embrace. Her back touches his sheets and it smells like him, making her smile.

His kiss is hard and hungry, a little rough, but she likes the way he puts his personality in everything he does. Buttercup let’s Butch guide her, take over control, touch her in every place he wants; now his hands are back to her boobs, while he bites her lower lips with those sharp teeth.

She scratches his shoulders, hard, as a response, and he grunts, pausing for a second to look at her. He’s frowning, eyes hungry, and mouth already swollen, and Buttercup notice her eyes are wet.

“You know what pisses me off?” he asks, and his tone is irritated. She remains silent, and is terrified the moment is ruined by something she did. He’s scanning her face again. “Pisses me off when you compare yourself with your sisters, as if you’re less than them.”

She blinks, astonished.

“You’re better. You’re the most incredible girl I know.” He snarls, capturing a nipple with sharp teeth, and Buttercup doesn’t have time to control the loud moan, legs shaking around his waist. “You’re everything, Buttercup.”

Finally, she’s crying.

Butch kisses her again, and she feels the tears coming out of her eyes, and touches his face, intensifying it, desperate. He lays down, naked chest over hers, and caress her thighs. She feels like oxygen is the most useless thing in the universe now.

Buttercup now wants him to know. Wants him to now how much she likes him, how amazing he feels, how weird is to like her best friend and former enemy, how wrong it felt at the beginning.

So, she stops him. He looks at her and frowns, noticing the tears. “It’s from happiness.” She explains, and his face seems to light up. “I’m not good with words. But I want you to know.”

“What?” he whispers.

She’s hot all over. “What I feel for you… I never felt. Like, never thought was possible. To feel it, like someone the much I like you.” Buttercup whispers, voice thick with emotion. “More than amazing, I don’t know, you just make me feel… mighty real.”

Butch laughs. She knows he’s surprised by her words. “Fuck, it’s like a wet dream.”

She laughs back, more tears coming out of her bright eyes. “So, you’ve been dreaming with me?"

“All the time, idiot.” He responds, kissing her boobs, and after her lips. His hands go from her thighs to her ribs, holding her in place. “You’re soft.”

She chuckles, bringing him close for another kiss. He lays down on his side, and she does the same, facing him. Buttercup traces his nose with a finger, and he squeezes her.

“I’m turned on.” He smirks, and she looks down at his waist. The sleep-pants aren’t a little discreet, making her laugh at his sincerity. “Are you?”

The hotness on her chest obviously spread to her lower belly and between her thighs. “I am.”

“What do you want to do?” he asks, taking her hair out of her face. “Your hair’s long.”

“I don’t know.” She smiles, a little nervous. She never imagined… losing her virginity like that, all of a sudden, but the idea doesn’t bother her now. “You think I should cut it?”

“No, it’s easier to grab.” He takes it all on his hand and pulls a little. Buttercup is as surprised as he is by the soft moan that escapes her lips. “Fuck, you’re giving me ideas.”

She climbs over him, one leg on each side of his body, and the friction makes her shiver and he hiss. His hands go to her butt, holding it firmly, and she lowers down to kiss him again.

“You’re teasing me.” He whispers, licking a spot behind her ear, and Buttercup shakes at his tone. It’s raspy, different, and she bites her lip, moving a bit for more friction. “Buttercup…”

The sound of the front door slamming makes them widen eyes, and before Buttercup does something, Butch hugs her firmly, trapping her in his arms, and turns, so he’s over her again, and she remembers he’s black belt in some kind of martial art she forgot the name of.

“What the fuck was that?” she asks, out of breath, and he’s completely over her, covering her naked body.

“A sweep. You didn’t close the door.” He says, and looks over his shoulder in the exact same time Brick appears on the corridor. The older Ruff looks at them, Blossom right behind him, and continues, but the Puff stops, looking at the scene. Brick returns, only his head visible, and frowns.

“Hey, you home early.” Butch greets them, smirking.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Brick asks, and Blossom is so shocked she doesn’t even scold him for the word. Buttercup avoids looking at her sister, so, instead, she looks at Butch’s profile, feeling her face on fire.

She’s annoyed but can’t stop thinking of how handsome he looks.

“Wrestling.” The green ruff shrugs, completely over Buttercup, and she notices her legs are crossed on his lower back again.

“And why does Buttercup’s clothes are on the floor?” Blossom asks, and Brick snorts. “What kind of naked wrestling is this?”

Butch looks back at Buttercup, and she covers her face with an arm, embarrassed. Butch smiles, but when he turns to his brother, he has a blank expression. “It’s jiu-jitsu. I’m teaching her some techniques.”

“I see.” Brick laughs ironically. “Well, it was about time. Now Boomer owns me twenty bucks.”

“What?” Buttercup shouts, and Butch hides his face on the crack of her neck. “You two assholes bet what?”

“C’mon, Buttercup. You’re as sensitive as a log.” Brick leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. Blossom’s still froze, looking from the couple to the discarded clothes on the floor. “When you let Butch hug you, I knew I was a matter of time until you let him get into your pants.”

The green puff opens her mouth to protest, but Butch kisses her, making her suffocate a sound. Blossom yelps.

“For your information, I didn’t get into her pants.” Butch smirks, and Buttercup is so surprised by his sudden kiss she doesn’t say anything. “But if you could close the door, I’d appreciate it, bro, thanks.”

“Say, Bloss, would you like to learn some jiu-jitsu too?” Brick looks to Blossom, and she blushes hard, hitting him on the arm.

“Fuck you.” Butch laughs, and Blossom closes the door with a huge noise. She says something to Brick, and he laughs loudly.

“So, where were we at?” Butch asks, and Buttercup rolls her eyes.

“Wrestling? It would be better if you said we’re making out.” She tries to be angry, but he’s already kissing her face, and when he licks her boob, she melts again. “And now I want to really learn that.”

“No way” he murmurs on her neck, biting it, and Buttercup moans. “It’s the only thing I can defeat you on.”

“You defeated me right now.” she whispers, hands on his curly hair, caressing it.

“Did I?” he asks. She nods. He looks out of breath, and the corners of his eyes wrinkle when he opens the biggest smile she ever saw on his lips. It's beautiful, seeing him this close, feeling him. “Wow.”

Buttercup rolls her eyes at him again. His hands go to her waistband, and she does the same with his.

“Would you like me to…” Butch asks, without saying the complete sentence, and she has butterflies on her stomach.

“Yes.” Buttercup smiles.

Soon enough her running shorts, his sleep-pants and their underwear are on the floor, along with her tshirt and bra. He floats to his wardrobe, opens a drawer and takes a purple pack from it, hands shaking.

When they become one, Buttercup thinks that _this_ is the better sensation of all, and the image right in front of her eyes will be forever on her memory. Butch opens his mouth a little, sighing, closing his eyes, frowning. He’s a little uncoordinated at first, and she wonders if its his first time, too. She doesn’t ask because maybe she’ll hate the answer.

“Butch…” she sighs when his movements get faster, and he laughs awkwardly, chest and face red, arms that support him over her are shaking, and she massage them, getting up just a little to kiss him deep. She acting in impulse, hugging him, and bites his shoulder when he goes deep for the first time, something happening on her insides.

His moans are soft on her ear, and she’s again surprised at how different he can be from the usual lousy, trouble-maker and wild Butch she previously knew. Buttercup’s moaning, too, and he kisses her from time to time, when she’s a little louder.

She can feel the muscles in his back, sweaty, and his curls tickle her forehead while he’s moving, at first with caution, and then desperately, and she’s loving every second of it. She puts one hand on the back of his neck and the other between them, and his eyes are sparkling when she trembles, getting close to the release.

“Look at me.” He whispers, rough voice, and she obeys. She has parted lips, sweat on her temples, and her lids are heavy with desire. “You’re fucking amazing.”

Buttercup has to muffle a loud moan on his neck when something happens, a giant wave of pleasure making her entire body shake, her vision whites, and she’s over sensitive, listening to his groans and breathing. She never felt like this before – Butch’s eyes are locked on hers, and she’s so anesthetized by everything her mind shuts down for a second, and all she can think about is how she wants to do this for the rest of her life with him, only him, because he’s perfect.

He moves inside her a little more before pulling out quickly, sitting over her, and Buttercup raises a bit on her elbows to watch as he releases himself on the condom, frowning, the veins on his forearms really visible. She feels something again between her thighs and bites her lip.

Butch discards the condom on the floor, not caring where it lands, and lays down beside her, face down, with a muffle sound. She laughs, and he props himself on an elbow, the smug expression again.

“Do you think they heard us?”

“I don’t care.” She whispers, turning to him. He does the same, and she kisses his entire face, then neck, shoulders and back to his lips.

This time, the kiss is slow and tender. She doesn’t know she was capable of that, too.

“Did you like it?” Butch asks, caressing her nose with his.

“A lot.” Buttercup confesses, and he winks, fingers tracing patterns over her belly.

“Good, ‘cause now that we crossed that line, we’re not going back.” He mocks, trying to be serious, but both laugh.

She can’t remember a time she was so happy.


End file.
